


The Unfinished Collection

by TerminallyTyranical



Category: SSF, Super Science Friends (Cartoon)
Genre: Other, Some kinky shit, Super science friends - Freeform, not all of it though, shit I’ll probably never get done cause I’m lazy, ssf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-19 22:44:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14882621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminallyTyranical/pseuds/TerminallyTyranical
Summary: Just a bunch of SSF fics I never got around to getting done, maybe I will finish some of them, maybe I won’t. But like, here I guess if you’re looking for anticlimactic, short ssf content.





	1. A Helpful Reminder || Jung x Freud smutfic ||

A loud thump echoed throughout the room as Jung’s back met with the wall. The sound of paintings rattling behind the duo being of no concern to him, or his… opponent. Coughing out a number of profanities, a small sting of pain vibrated through his spine. 

With one hand pinning the man’s shoulder, Freud used his free appendage to trace a line ever so slightly up Jung's neck. The submissives rapid breathing under his finger making him smirk. “You really are still just a pupil,” the Austrian tsked, basking in every glare his Swiss opposite shot at him.

“We’ll see about that,” Jung spat back. He’d nearly forgotten how much the man drove him crazy. Scanning the room around them, an idea struck; But the bigger question was would it work? Swallowing his pride, the black haired man purred. “First, how about we take a seat? I don’t think I’ll be able to handle someone like you standing up. You’re too…” a beat of silence sat in the room as he searched for a term that for once wasn't condescending. “Clever,” Freud's face scrunched up slightly in surprise. His smirk melting into a hearty grin. Jung could feel the hand he had on his shoulder slide down to his wrist. The grip tight, but not forceful. 

“I’m not exactly sure what you think you’re doing Jung, but I’ll indulge whatever scheme you think you’re getting away with.” The man responded, excitement coating his tone. All before hastily adding, “Hopefully all that palm readings good for something after all.” Jung could feel the heat rush to his cheeks. A mix of irritation, and embarrassment rushing towards his counterpart's words, as he watched Freud take a seat. The Austrians hand slipping from his wrist. Instinctually he began to follow, only to be pushed back by a stern, if not patronizing tone of voice.

“Ah ah ah, don’t you have other matters to attend to?” 

The increased amount of red on his face only confirmed the fact that Freud was winning. Jung knew that, he understood and accepted it. But he couldn’t help it, and the man despised that. Walking up to his older counterpart, he stopped when the two were toe to toe.

“Young Jung, you know it isn’t going to work from this height.” Freud persisted, a part of him only just now realized how much taller his Swiss rival really was. As the younger man began to kneel he could feel a twinge of excitement string his heart. 

With hearty grin Freud had been wearing having yet to be loosened, Jung didn’t reply. It wasn’t worth the wasted breath, as instead, he complied. Kneeling, he slammed down on the man’s foot. Eyes hastily searching for a reaction. Yet to his aw, all he received was a slight flinch, his expression twisting before reverting back to his smug demeanor, and w-was that a boner? Jung fought to hold back a frustrated sigh. Was there one thing that wasn’t fucked about this man?

Freud’s hand slinked back to Jung’s, slowly but surely guiding him to his crotch. The cold metal of the zipper against his partner's little thing making Jung flinch. Popping off the iron button, slowly he pinched the zipper in between his fingers. Every agonizingly idle second making Freud that much more restless. 

Once it was finally out in the open, dead air sat between the both of them. Freud letting out a genuine laugh, when all Jung did was just sit there, and stare. “Must I hold your hand through everything?” He playfully teased leading Jung’s surprisingly cold hands to his recently released cock. “You do know what happens next right? Or shall we make it a one on one tutorship?” 

Freud’s mouth only seemed to shut, when the searing pain of nearly having his dong yanked off came into play. A loud moan replacing the Austrians previous confident persona. Jung gave a weak smirk in response, quite satisfied to know what made Freud tick... If not mildly disgusted. 

“What was that? For a professor(?) you’re not very good at using your words.” 

Freud scowled, watching as his counterpart mockingly cupped his ear with a free hand. And the moment he even dared to open his mouth? Another forceful tug. The strange mixture of distaste, and pleasure leaving an unusual taste in his mouth. 

Speaking of mouths


	2. Little Big Riding Hood | Tesla (supposed to be Freud to but never got that far) |

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a little red riding hood au, that’s bout it

Tesla was never fond of the forest, or the outside in general really. Only going out when it was completely necessary. For his strange little town, it was almost like an event. The children especially enjoyed pointing this out among his arrival to the marketplace. Which was really only one of the two locations he often found himself traveling. The other one being his small, beaten up cottage. They’d see his bright red cape fluttering in the morning winds, contrasting against the man’s deathly pale skin, and they’d sing. “The bears out of hibernation, it’s the end of a nation.” Whether or not these kinds of things bothered him, well… 

The Serbian was never really rich, didn’t have a job, or a consistent source of income. But it’s not like he was poor. The town didn’t know that though, the town didn’t know a lot of things about him. Often when he’d stop by the market, certain vendors would smile more, a pseudo-persona taking over their demeanor as they slipped an extra egg into his basket without him even asking. Probably thought he was depressed. Which they’d never say to his face of course. There’s a lot of things they’d never say to his face. 

Upon returning from the marketplace, Tesla noticed something different. A small, red letter sitting neatly on his door. His face lit up, He’d been waiting for this. Like a child on Christmas Day, the man looked behind him, before excitedly scooping up the slip, and sliding back inside. Dropping the small basket off at the door, Tesla didn’t even bother to think about removing his cape, too caught up in his own enthusiasm, favoring carefully prying open the letter immediately instead. 

To whom it may concern, after going over the contents of your proposition. We believe to have come to a deal, please arrive at…..

Tesla stopped right then and there, clutching the letter against his chest. They accepted it. They bought the machine. The months of his life where he worked endlessly, all paying off in one grand symphony, he couldn’t believe it. Scanning the rest of the letter for a location, his enthusiasm dropped when he realized where exactly he had to go through. 

The Dirt

There were worse places to tread. It wasn’t a war-torn country or the back alley of a less tasteful establishment. He’d know, being dragged along to one of them by a less than tasteful ex-coworker. The Serbian hated every second of it. 

The sounds it made

“Besides,” Tesla reassured himself. His eyes on the window, on the thin patch of forest that he could somewhat predict. “You’re a genius inventor, you can do anything.” For a second, the desperate excuse he called comforting actually worked. 

Emptying whatever sat his basket, the man rushed to grab the device, and cautiously load it inside. A faint glance towards the window making his stomach churn. There was a reason they called it the wilderness. 

 

The most Tesla ever really seen come out of the wooded-terror was a deer at worst. A part of him, hated that he even had begun to worry about something nobody else really did. With a free hand on the door knob, the man drew a deep breath. It was gonna be fine, really. 

There was absolutely nothing to worry about. 

The afternoon sun was the first thing that really seemed to hit Tesla, moving the basket he carried up his shoulder to shield his eyes. The seemingly over-bearing heat virtually disappearing the moment he stepped into the forested depths. A faint path had already been carved out, a number of footprints meshing together into one solid line of dirt. The Serbian was relieved to see this was the case.


	3. The Yearbook || Z3 ||

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ones a bit ancient. It was supposed to be a school in the eighties au I never got around to finishing, there was a lot to it, but the only thing I got close to being done was Z3’s divorce conflicts. So have those-

“Dad?” The young boy looked up from his swinging feet. The family couldn’t really afford a booster seat, so the never did fully hang off of the edge of the cars leather chair. Z3 sighed, he knew what was coming. “I don’t want to go back to-” “Look Mark, we’ve had this conversation so many times. I know you don’t, but just…” He let out a deflated sigh. What was he supposed to do? The boy was young, and things were complicated. How could he even begin to comprehend everything that was tumbling down.. the other two were fairly quiet. Only on occasion could the old man see them exchange whispers from the car mirror. “Think of it like school. Sometimes you gotta go through all the tough stuff to reach the weekend. You understand?” He gave a weak smile, the kids glance only shifting back down to the feet whose legs weren’t long enough to reach the end of the seat. “But you still get recess!” The child protested, tiny fists bumping against the worn seat of the vehicle. “Well in highschool you don’t. Mark please, you just have to be a big kid for a little while until I sort things out with the-”   
“How come they get to decide who I get to be with!”   
“To make sure children aren’t given to the wrong people,” Z3 answered. His tone trying his damndest to sound sincere, holding back tears, and the temptation to hit the gas and go into no man’s land with his kids. It didn’t matter where, as long as it wasn’t with that witch. “Well they sure aren’t doing a good job at it,” the man choked out another deflated sigh. “I- I know they aren’t, I know they aren’t.” Don't let them see you cry, don’t let them see you cry, be a man, come on- be a, “Man, we’re really close. Huh, how about I put on some toons?” He left suggested, exchanging glances between the road and his son. Small sniffles between breaths giving Z3 his own form of heartache. So this is how god punishes me. Hitting a button on the dashboard, Ace of Base’s The Sign happily replaced the uncomfortable atmosphere that filled the shabby vehicle. Now it was uncomfortable with pop music.   
“We’re here,” Z3 mumbled glancing up at the street name. Honeysuckle, a sweet name for such a shabby street. He used to joke about it with her when they first moved in. It all seemed like a photograph now, something still and lifeless that tried to capture the emotions at the time. “Thanks dad,” he could hear the unanimous mumbles among the shuffling of bags, and whatever else they may have left lying around the car. Forcing on a fake smile, the elder man gave his youngest a pat on the back. “I’ll see you next Friday, right sport.” Wiping his face with his sleeve, the young boy gave a solid nod. His siblings waiting by the door for their youngest counterpart. Watching his son Scamper off Z3 put the car back in drive. Letting out a choked sob in the process. God damn it. Next week, he’d have to push the boulder up the hill all over again.


	4. Find the Words // Curie x Tesla Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tesla and Curie hang out at the park, and feed the birds

He was interesting, an enigma beyond just chemicals. 

Curie's eyes panned up from the crowd of birds Tesla had managed to gather. The shade of the park's trees making the man look more like a vampire than an actual human. He was smiling, his movements much more smooth, more relaxed. No hesitance to them unlike back at the base. Almost as if he were different person, a character being played, almost. 

A part of it made her want to smile. The more she thought about it, the less she remembered seeing him grin. Or at least not like that. Not that she was any better, but the way he did it… it made him look less lost. He was in his element.

The loud rustling of the brown bag the duo had brought, was enough to break Curie's trance. The sounds of other people becoming a lot more apparent, as she adjusted her position on the metal park bench. The way it tugged at her dress being, not the most comfortable, but tolerable. 

Tolerable

She wondered if that’s what Tesla thought of everyone else. Did it matter? It’s not like leaving was up to his decision. Digging her hand in the bag herself, the woman scooped up small chunks of stale bread, looking at them then back at Tesla. 

“You just kind of, throw them in.” The man commented, with a slight shrug. Grabbing a handful of his own, and throwing it in. A wave of flapping feathers following. Suit as he watched with a boyish glee.

“They’re just birds.” Curie responded, confusion


	5. Electric Bungalow Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’d explain myself better, but I was just kinda unmotivated.

Chapter 2; WIP TITLE, Notes  
Plans:   
Steppi  
Suit n tie,  
Degrade Tesla 

The smell of freshly cooked eggs wafted through the air. Jolting Tesla awake to aching limbs. He didn’t need the lights to be on to know who it was. Shutting his eyes tight, he waited for the buzz of flickering lights to cease. Loud taps against the solid concrete flooring of the basement making anxiety bubble in the Serbians chest. And they were only coming closer. The big bad wolf was near. And he wasn’t sure what he wanted. 

“Good morning little Niii-kola,” Edison sang, his overtly wide grin being met with no reply. He was expecting an off-hand comment at its worst. Waiting a few seconds, his smile loosened at the lack of response. Looking almost as if it were hanging by a thread. The man kneeled down and dropped the plate. The clatter of chinaware meeting the cold basement flooring making Tesla’s eyes snap open. Actual food. His heart skipped a beat, not daring to even glance in Edison’s direction. He wasn’t sure if it was a scheme, or poisoned, or what. The man wouldn’t hold any of that above someone like him. Instinctually he reached out, the snug feeling of rope rubbing against his arms only now an early grim reminder of the state he was in. Still in the sweat (among other things) coated clothing, he’d dawned yesterday. It drove the man crazy.

He liked to think Edison knew that.

No

He knew Edison knew that.

“What do we say?” Edison inquired, heaving up from his kneeling position. Dusting off whatever his pants had collected off the basement floor. He waited, no answer. Only the familiar faint buzz that Tesla always seemed to carry around with him. He wasn’t going to answer, the Serbian refused to answer. Looking down at his feet, he waited patiently for Edison to leave. A rhythmic tapping replaced where his voice should’ve been, his captor adding a familiar, “I can’t hear youuuu.” 

“You’re not supposed to,” Tesla thought. His eyes squinting at the plate of food. The faint blur of Edison’s tapping shoes in his peripheral vision. Until he noticed them lifting up, and not coming back down. Before he could look back up at Edison, he could feel the hard rough texture of the shoe bottom clash against his shoulder. Forcing it against the plaster walls of the basement. 

“Let’s try this again, alright?” The man insisted, digging his sole further into Tesla’s shoulder. The pressure of something weighing down on him speeding the Serbians breathing up fairly quickly. “Good,” pause, “morning,” another pause, “Nikola, now what do we say back when someone says ‘good morning’?” 

In between rapid breaths, Tesla’s words all seemed to jumble together in desperate search for a proper response. “We say good morning back,” he muttered his eyes dead set on the concrete flooring. 

“No wonder you’re penniless with a performance like that.” Edison retorted his eyes squinted ever so slightly. Tesla could feel each bristle of his bottom sole at this point.


	6. Texture || Einstein Angst Fic ||

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically this was supposed to be Einstein right after being busted out of the tank. Not much more to it

Sensation came flaring through his body in bits and pieces. The off putting tingle of wet dripping from pale newborn skin, and onto a new texture that rubbed against fresh hands and knees. Making the boys mind branch off into every path at once. Moving was foreign. Only in memory could he comprehend what was happening, it was all in memory really. Raising a hand towards bright white lights, his eyes clamped shut, and grasped at nothing. The air moving water from soaking wet hands making Einstein go through another surge of new memories. It just wasn’t right, it wasn’t him- or well- it was him, but not the same him. 

Was it the strange vat liquid or was his body always this heavy? 

Something soft was pressed against him from nowhere, a hand naturally flailing back in instinctual retaliation till it too met skin. More memories, bad memories. He was shaking, even with arms wrapped tightly wrapped around him.


End file.
